


water and a flame

by minhoscallousedhands



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhoscallousedhands/pseuds/minhoscallousedhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you can't expect fire and water to get along. all they do is try to cancel each other out. part of 12 days of christmas: tradition & fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	water and a flame

****i. water

Minho always runs. Mostly figuratively. Newt hates it–the figurative running. Not the running that had given him a scholarship for college. He’d left him far too many times for his own fingers to count, but still, like the idiot that’s helplessly in love, he stayed. Wait for him to come home to his arms after a week or two. Act like nothing happened and repeat the cycle of arguments and running again, and again, and again, until it becomes almost their entire relationship. Now he’s not so sure if Minho will ever walk through his door anymore.

“I can’t believe for one second I’d entertain the idea that we’d be happy together.” was the last thing he said before slamming the door shut.

Like **fire** , Minho’s words burn. Always. But Newt doesn’t mind getting **charred**. It’s not that he’s a masochist–not really, no. Here’s the thing: people like Minho, whereas Newt is more of an acquired taste. He hasn’t met many people who’d take a liking to his insight, in fact, only Minho does. Seriously, what would you do when you finally meet that one person who, not only gets you, but also likes you for who you are? You cling on to them. And Newt’s not exempt from that logic. He did, he still does, and he never once planned to let go.

Until now.

 

ii. fire

Newt is extremely difficult to deal with. Sharing seems to be too unfamiliar for him to understand: his need for Minho ranks right next to his need for oxygen. Of course it didn’t happen overnight; he was once tender and selfless, but now he’s terribly possessive. One day Minho woke up to plates and glasses breaking and wonder where did this come from. Give it a couple of days and he will find another reason to send their dinnerware flying. He wants to leave. Desperately.

Does he deserve “I fucking hate you!” over cancelled dinner plans? Maybe not.

Newt is lethal in abundance, just like **water**. Exactly like water. Before Minho moved in, he was fun to be around with. He’s caring, but harsh. Strong, but needy. Contradiction lures Minho in always, he stood out amongst the many people who were trying to win his heart. He loves Newt. So fucking much. He let his guard down and let Newt love him; something he used to avoid at all costs. Suddenly there’s too much of Newt, and too little of Minho. Suddenly, the fact that they’re together isn’t enough. Suddenly, he’s  **drowning**. He never meant to actually leave, he just did it to calm himself down.

Until now.

 

iii. resolution

It’s Christmas. So what? It doesn’t mean that Newt should expect Minho to be home by December 25th. Is it even their home anymore if he hadn’t been in there for three months straight? Guess not. Newt never once set foot in a church on his own will anyways, why would he be so worked up over spending the holiday alone? The bitterness of a fond memory kicks in as he walk past Christmas decoration aisle in a local department store. _Fuck, I just wanted to get a new knife set._ It took place around the same time last year, at the same place. Minho, who is **practically a slut for Christmas** , dragging a very reluctant Newt to help him pick a tree topper plays vividly in his head in third person, somehow. God, how he wishes he hadn’t been such a pain in the ass. He probably would’ve stayed for Christmas this year.

“Newt?” the voice doesn’t come from his memory. It’s from the other end of the aisle.

Black hair and black eyes in a black shirt and black jeans. It’s really him. His Minho. Well, not exactly his now, but they never officially broke up. Newt’s limbs go cold and he’s frozen in his tracks, hands reaching the bottom of his coat pockets.

“Christmas shopping?” his voice light and airy, like nothing had ever happened between them. Like he’d never left.

“I wish. Just getting a knife set.” Newt replies. Not to mention annoyed by how irreverent Minho is. Why is he still surprised, really? He just decides to walk away. What good can come from this conversation anyways?

“Newt, I’m sorry.”

“You’re _what_?”

“Sorry.”

Just when Newt thought history’s not going to repeat itself once more, it just fucking did. It’s so typical of Minho to do this and someone has to break the cycle at some point. Like he always repeat to himself many times before, during those sleepless nights he spent alone, waiting for Minho to come home: he deserves better.

Newt doesn’t even bother to look back. “It’s **over** , Minho.”

_The flames had died long ago, and the water had run dry._


End file.
